


disappear into the sun

by orphan_account



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Concussions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good God, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Post-Traumatic Stress, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Tsunami (9-1-1), bucks insecure as fuck, someone PLEASE give evan buckley a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24165358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Buck's a liability.Or: Eddie takes Buck home after the Tsunami.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Pre-Relationship - Relationship
Comments: 24
Kudos: 816





	disappear into the sun

**Author's Note:**

> This show needs a lot more dealing with the massive traumatic events that happen to everyone and i'll die on that hill.

Buck is shaking. 

His mind lists plenty of possible reasons- shock, adrenaline come-down, exhaustion, dehydration, anxiety, the not insignificant fact that he’s been fighting for his life for the better part of a day- but he’s really only focused on the fact that he can’t wrap his hand around the water bottle long enough to take a sip. 

Hen, sitting next to him on the cot, rubs his shoulders and reminds him gently that she’ll start an IV if he doesn’t start drinking. 

Buck tries again. 

The water dribbles down his neck and onto his shirt. 

He hears Hen sigh.  
“What are we gonna do with you, kid?” 

Buck shrugs. It’s not himself he’s worried about. 

Chris is asleep now, wrapped in a shock blanket and held tightly against his father’s shoulder, as Eddie checks around the field tent to see if he’s good to head out. Buck watches Eddie talk quietly to a doctor, his arms tight around his son. His face is settled into its normal professional neutrality now, any emotion buried deep beneath the surface, but Buck can’t help but think about the expression he made when Buck confessed he lost Chris. Wide-eyed, horrified, mouth only slightly opening, like he was about to say something, hands tightening into fists. And then they found him. There but for the grace of God. And with no thanks to Buck. 

Chris is okay. Just bruised, exhausted, and scared. Buck keeps trying to tell himself that. 

Buck sloshes more water down his shirt, and gives up, dropping the bottle on the ground and rubbing harshly at his stinging eyes. 

  
“Buck,” Hen says warningly, in a tone generally only reserved for Denny, when he’s trying to slide down the pole at the firehouse without permission, or Chim, when he’s attempting to get out of doing the dishes. Buck cringes, just for a second, and is horrified to find that tears are spilling over his cheeks. He honestly didn’t know he had any water left in his body. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Buck says hoarsely. He’s screamed himself raw, looking for Chris. Every word hurts. 

“Oh, Buckaroo,” Hen says quietly. She pulls his head down to her shoulder and slings an arm around him, never mind that he’s soaked in half-dried sewer water, blood stains on his shirt and pants and he’s not so sure what’s his and what’s someone else’s. 

Buck closes his eyes. His stomach is twisted into all sorts of knots; it's going to take him weeks to undo them. He hears heavy footsteps and keeps his eyes shut. He can’t take it anymore. Can’t take Bobby’s pitying glances, Chim’s fake cheeriness, Eddie’s stoney judgement. He just wants to disappear. 

“Hey,’” Eddie’s voice is rough and low. “He's asleep?” 

Oh God, if Eddie yells at him, if Eddie makes that face-

Buck feels Hen’s grip tighten around his shoulder. 

“Yeah, he passed out a minute ago.” Hen covers for him. “He’s completely exhausted, Eddie.” 

“I know.” Oddly, Eddie’s voice softens. 

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his cheek, large, rough, calloused. Gentle. 

“Hey, wake up,” Eddie says quietly. “C’mon, Buck. Let’s go home.” 

What? 

Buck cracks his eyes open, if only out of sheer confusion. Eddie is kneeling in front of him, one hand keeping Chris secure on his chest, and the other is on his shoulder.

“Come on. I gotta get this boy in bed, and you too. Let’s go.” Eddie says. 

“I, uh-” Buck looks to Hen for assistance, but she looks as lost as he feels. 

“Evan.” Eddie says. He hoists Chris higher on his shoulder. “I’m not asking.” 

“Okay.” Buck’s voice cracks. 

Maybe Eddie wants to yell at him in private, make it completely clear that Buck has lost any trust and friendship he had without an audience present. 

Buck understands. He gets unsteadily up to his feet and follows Eddie out. 

* * *

When they get into the house, Eddie takes Chris to give him a shower. 

Buck is left in the darkened living room, digging his jagged nails into his palms. He doesn’t want to sit on the couch- he’s completely covered in god knows what- but his legs are about thirty seconds away from giving out on him, so he compromises for sitting on the floor, back to the wall. 

It’s a small house; he can hear every sound from the bathroom; every exhausted cry from Chris, every soft assurance spoken in Spanish from Eddie. It’s clear Chris is fighting him on everything, and when Eddie emerges from the bathroom with Chris on his shoulder, hair damp and pajamas on, he looks ten times more drained than he did going on. 

“I’m just going to put him down.” Eddie says. Buck nods, and Eddie disappears down the hallway. 

Buck takes a deep breath and tries to steel himself. Oh, god, he really might throw up. 

Eddie reappears in the doorway after a few minutes. 

“Is he okay?” Buck manages to ask. He can’t even meet Eddie’s eyes, searching over him. 

“He will be.” Eddie says. “He’s still scared, but just a few bruises and some cuts. He’s already asleep.” 

Buck nods and swallows thickly. Prepares himself for the onslaught. 

“Okay, your turn.” Eddie crosses the room, stands in front of him. 

Buck blinks up at him. 

“What?” 

“Shower, Buckley. Ever heard of one?” 

“Yeah, but-”  
“Then let’s go. I know you collapsed and I want a good look at those cuts before you sleep.” 

“Eddie, I-”

Eddie hauls him to his feet, and gives him a light push down the hall. He places a towel in his hands. 

  
“You know the drill. My shampoo is on the top rack, your stuff’s under the sink.”  
  


Buck still can’t quite make out the expression on Eddie’s face, but he’s practically being shoved into the bathroom, so he complies. 

“Don’t lock the door, I don’t trust your blood pressure.” Eddie calls. 

Buck considers cracking a joke, looks down at the blood covering his arms, and decides against it. He strips quickly, kicking the clothes into a corner, probably to just be thrown out later, and cranks up the water as high as the heat goes. 

He knows Eddie’s right about his blood pressure- he gets nauseous thirty seconds in- but it’s worth it to rub his skin red, get off every particle of dirt and blood and mud. Buck’s scrubbing at his scalp when he finds it. He pulls it down, and stares at the long strand of dark hair curling in his palm. 

He stares at it for a moment. It’s not his. It’s not Chris’. He must have gotten it caught when he was underwater- 

His stomach revolts. He’s down on his knees, retching sea water and every sugary thing he’s ingested today. The hot water beats down on his back, and Bucks sobs, trying to take in a breath, and finding, oddly, that he can’t. 

* * *

Eddie isn’t completely sure how he’s still upright. The entire day- swimming through trash-filled water, climbing the Ferris wheel- he was so sure in Buck and Chris’ safety. Buck hadn’t said anything since he got pictures from breakfast, but all the towers had been jammed up, and there was no reason to worry. Eddie was so completely convinced that they were back at the house, watching TV and having dinner, Buck probably trying Eddie’s phone every once in a while, that it was the only thing keeping him going at the field hospital as he drifted from victim to body. Just a few more hours, and he would be home, and he could check on Chris, asleep in his bed, and pull Buck into the tightest hug he would allow, and keep him there. 

Just a few more hours. 

And then, like a ghost, he saw Buck, barely standing upright. He was destroyed, tear tracks marking the only somewhat clean part on his skin. Blood and dirt were congealing on his clothes, his hair, and Eddie was immediately cataloging the gashes of skin missing from his cheek, the red that covered his arm from the elbow down like a glove. He needs help, he needs Eddie- 

Eddie stilled, just for a moment. If Buck was here, where was...

“Eddie-” Buck is looking at him, desperate. His eyes are glassy, he’s shaking so violently Eddie’s worried he’s not going to keep his balance, and his voice is gone, replaced by a harsh hollowed-out version, like Buck is perpetually gargling glass. 

Buck steps forward. _Where is his son?_ Eddie steps back.

And then, over his shoulder, a woman was getting down from a truck, a boy wrapped in her arms. He’s skinny, knock-kneed, legs that struggle to walk far without assistance, blonde curls. 

Chris. 

Eddie moves past Buck and nearly runs, sweeping his son up in his arms, and holding him, tight, tight, tight. 

Chris is sobbing, grabbing at his uniform shirt, and Eddie can only make out _Buck_ and _saved me_ between the mumbled rapid-fire Spanglish. 

“It’s alright, _mijo,_ I’m right here, I’m right here.” Eddie says, gripping him tighter. He’s searching for injuries, bringing him to a cot to make sure his son is in one piece. Chim comes over to assist, and it helps, not because Eddie doesn’t have the experience, but because Chim is calm and cheerful, making Chris crack a smile, and getting him water and a shock blanket. Behind them, Eddie sees Buck collapse, sees Hen guide him to a cot and force him down. One problem at a time. 

Chris falls asleep, and once Eddie is sure that he’s no longer needed at the field hospital, he goes to collect his other responsibility. 

Buck is asleep against Hen’s shoulder, still looking utterly wrecked. There’s a bottle of water abandoned on the ground, and it seems that most of it ended up on Buck’s shirt rather than anywhere useful. 

“He’s asleep?” He asks Hen softly. Hen nods, but there’s something a little wary in her expression. 

“He passed out a minute ago. He’s completely exhausted, Eddie.” 

Eddie kneels down. There’s a massive rip in Buck's jeans. The skin of his right knee is completely gone. No one bothered bandaging it. 

  
“I know.” He says. His son, asleep on his shoulder, whole, safe, healthy, wouldn’t be here without him. He knows. 

So he hustles his boys home, and wakes Chris up for a quick shower. Chris, exhausted and tired of having no control over what happens to him, fights him the entire time, thrashing against him and crying without a voice. Eddie bites his lip, hard, and tries to wash the dirt off his son’s back quicker. 

Chris passes out the minute Eddie lays him in bed, thank God. Eddie tucks him in tight, makes sure that his stuffed bear is within reaching distance and all three night lights are turned on. He leaves the door open a crack. 

Okay. One down. One to go. 

(He decides not to think about the wood under his nails, the water soaked into the fabric of his pants.) 

Buck is sitting against the wall, knees pulled to his chest and eyes vacant. Good god, they would never catch a break. Eddie feels a distant emotion tugging at his heart, filling his chest like a balloon. He shoves it back down. Buck needs to be taken care of. Everything else is secondary. 

Buck cringes away from him when he hauls him up, like he’s scared Eddie’s going to hit him. That makes no sense, but there’s dirt caked into Buck’s blonde hair, turning it a muddy brown, and nothing else makes sense either, so Eddie ignores it and practically shoves him down the hall and into the shower, warning him not to lock the door. For a second, there’s a familiar look on his face, like Buck is about to roll his eyes and bite back, but it’s gone within a second. Eddie guesses Buck hasn’t forgotten the several times that Eddie sat outside the shower on the toilet after his accident, ignoring all of his protests to make sure he didn’t fall. 

So the door closes, and Eddie quickly sets about changing into clean clothes, rinsing off as much as he can in the kitchen. As much as he’d love to shower after Buck, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of his head that he’s needed, and he won't get the chance. 

He’s right. Five minutes in, there’s a crash from the bathroom, and Eddie can hear gagging sounds over the running water. 

* * *

  
  


“Buck?” There’s a knock on the door. “You have three seconds to respond.” 

“I’m fine-” He manages, grabbing the edge of the tub and pulling himself up. His vision’s gone dark around the edges. 

“Buck.” Eddie says through the door, low and serious. 

“I threw up.” Buck admits. He tilts his head back, lets the hot spray hit his face. It stings harsh at the cuts across his eye, and it’s never felt so good. 

There’s a conspicuous silence from outside the door. 

“Put your towel on. I’m coming in.” Eddie says in a tone that leaves no room for arguments. 

Buck knows he’s going to come in regardless- Eddie, Army veteran and father extraordinaire, has no regard for dignity when it comes to safety- so he reaches out a shaky hand and pulls the towel down from the rack, wrapping it around his waist. 

The door opens, and Eddie is immediately turning off the water, kneeling at the tub. 

He has one hand on under Buck’s jaw instantly, checking his pulse, and the other brushes his wet hair out of his eyes, almost like a reflex. 

Just a reflex, Buck tells himself. He doesn’t mean anything by it. 

“Why’d you turn on the water that hot?” Eddie asks, after he’s satisfied that Buck’s not gonna die in his bathtub.  
  
Buck shrugs, and allows himself to lean into Eddie’s hands, if just for a moment. 

“I wanted everything off.” He says. “I was- I was covered.” 

Eddie looks down for a second.

“Yeah,” He says quietly. “Come on.” 

He keeps a hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing over scrapes, and helps Buck up. His head swims with the easy movement, and Eddie immediately guides him to the toilet and sits him down on the cover. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. He kneels down to pull out the first aid kit from underneath the sink, and gets out Buck’s toothbrush for him. 

Buck looks down at his hands, at the black jagged stitching holding together two sides of angry, puckered red skin over his palm and his wrist. His leg is aching with a quiet intensity that threatens to overtake him completely, and his head is about to split in two. 

“Fine.” He says. 

Eddie scoffs. 

“ _Mentiroso_ ,” He says. He digs out a penlight and clicks it on. “Follow it.” 

“I know what that one means.” Buck says, trying to follow the beam and finding that his eyes seemed to be working overtime. He shuts them and rubs at his lids with his good hand. 

“I know.” Eddie says. “I wanted you to. Give me your hand.” 

Eddie holds out the injured hand, trying not to wince as Eddie wraps it in clean gauze and tapes it securely.

He works in silence. Buck’s body is starting to realize he’s not in mortal peril anymore, and is shutting down all nonessential business to make up for it. Unfortunately, his brain is nonessential, and Buck finds himself floating above the bathroom. 

“Buck,” There’s a light tap on his cheek. “Need you to stay awake.” 

“Mmm.” Buck manages. He forces his eyes open a pinch, and the harsh light of the bathroom immediately assaults him. “My head hurts.” 

“I’m sure.” Eddie says. “The medic at the field hospital said you had a mild concussion.” 

Yeah, that would track with the bongo drums playing a nice jazzy beat on his brow bone. 

He shuts them again, just to keep the light out. There’s some zipping, and then a warm hand on his cheek, turning it gently. 

“How did you do this?” Eddie murmurs. Fingers ghost over the gashes, and Buck sucks in a breath. 

“I-I don’t remember.” He lies. “I-I think-” 

_There was a massive float of debris coming right at them. He’d managed to hoist Chris to safety, but something hard and sharp had grazed his face. He screamed in pain as skin was ripped clean off his cheek, but Chris was okay, his little hand squeezing Buck’s, so it was fine._

“Oh, _querido,_ ” Eddie says softly, and Buck forces himself to meet Eddie’s eyes. 

They’re wide and full of sympathy and pain and something else, deep and chasmic, that Buck can’t force himself to try and understand. He had said it out loud. 

“Eddie, I-” He starts. “I-I lost him. Why aren’t you mad? I lost Chris-” His voice cracks, and suddenly, like a dam breaks, there’s tears flooding down his cheeks, dripping onto his bare chest, the towel, Eddie’s hands. 

“Buck.” Eddie says. He’s crying too, Buck can see it. “There was a natural disaster. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But I lost him. I turned away for just a second, th-there was another surge, and he was _gone-”_ Bucks sobs, and draws in a deep, heaving breath. “It is my fault!”

Eddie pulls him close, bumping their foreheads together, and clasps the back of his neck. 

  
“It wasn’t your fault.” He repeats. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Buck weeps. 

* * *

When there’s no energy left in his body, and he’s left, slumped against Eddie’s shoulder and half asleep, Eddie taps him again. 

“Come on, you need to sleep.”  
Buck rubs his eyes. Eddie gets up and disappears for a second, and returns with clothes. 

“I’m going to check on Chris. Go ahead and get dressed.”  
  
Buck nods, and the door shuts. He staggers to his feet and wipes off the rest of the moisture from the mirror. 

He looks like a hot mess. 

His eyes are a swollen red, and he’s burst blood vessels in the whites of both of them. He busted his lip open- when did that happen? The scrapes on his cheek stand out in stark relief from the ghostly pallor of his cheeks and Buck looks away. 

He pulls on the clothes- an old army t-shirt, careworn, and sweatpants, and, for the moment, ignores the pile of rotting clothes in the corner. He opens the door and finds Eddie, closing Chris’ door down the hall. 

“Can I- Can I see him?” He whispers. Eddie nods, and Buck pads barefoot down the hall. 

Chris is curled up in his bed. He’s clutching the firefighter bear Buck got him for his birthday tightly to his chest, and his glasses are cleaned and sitting on his bedside table. From the door, Buck can see the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

“He’s okay.” Eddie says quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be okay.” 

There’s tears stinging at his eyes again, so Buck scrubs at his face again, and turns away, shutting Chris’ door halfway. 

“Let’s get some sleep.” 

Buck follows him to his bedroom. Eddie sits down on the edge of the bed and rubs his face wearily. 

“Come on,” Eddie says. Buck hesitates. 

“I can sleep on the couch-” He says, jamming a thumb in the direction of the living room. 

“Evan.” Eddie says, and for the first time the whole night, he sounds exhausted, and there’s a tinge of desperation in his voice. “I almost lost both of you today. Stay. Please.” 

It really doesn’t take Buck all that much more convincing. Eddie’s already pulled down the covers, and his entire muscular system is begging him to _please for the love of God, rest,_ so Buck does. He gets in on the other side, and pulls the covers up to his chin and takes in the so familiar scent of _Eddie-_ Chris’ strawberry shampoo, Eddie’s aftershave, the linen detergent they use, and his body, tense for the last ten hours, relaxes. 

He inches closer to Eddie hesitantly, but tonight, Eddie has none of his hold-backs, and immediately pulls him close. 

“I just,” He says, by way of explanation, one hand clasped tight around Eddie’s. “I need to know you’re okay. Please stay.” 

Buck nods in the dark, and brings Eddie’s hand to his heart. 

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “I’ll stay. I’ll always stay.” 

In three hours. Chris will wake up from a nightmare, a shriek caught in his throat. Eddie will dart out of bed, and Buck will sit ramrod straight up in bed, one hand wrapped around his throat, where his heart has taken up residence, until Eddie returns with Chris in his arms and lays him down next to Buck. 

  
Eddie will say, “He was scared, he couldn’t find you.” And Buck, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, will pull Chris tight to him and kiss his forehead, and whisper assurances that they’re okay, they’re safe, until Chris falls into a fitful sleep, and Eddie wraps an arm around both of them. 

In six hours, Maddie will show up at Eddie’s house with Buck’s spare keys, Chim hot on her heels, to make sure her little brother is safe, and find all three of them still in bed. Eddie will look at her through half-closed lids, Chris curled into his side and Buck, with an arm around Chris, resting his hand on Eddie’s chest, and he’ll shrug, and whisper not to wake them. 

Maddie will bite back a smile, and nod. 

In the following weeks, there will be nightmares and anxiety attacks, calls to new therapists, follow-up appointments at the hospital. Tears and arguments, apologies and kisses pressed to foreheads. 

There will be so much to figure out. 

But for now, there is this- Buck pressed close to Eddie’s side, warm and alive- and this is enough. 

It will always be enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr! im at ta1k-less and I enjoy making parallels between this show and shows that went off the air 15 years ago! its a good time.


End file.
